


Guess What's Coming to Dinner

by va_va_voom



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sex, TW: Hannibal, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/va_va_voom/pseuds/va_va_voom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Alana Bloom insists that Will Graham is too unstable for the work that Jack Crawford wants him to do, Jack must seek out a new analyst - Doctor Hannibal Lecter.<br/>An AU in which everything is happening a little bit more quickly than the show, and Will Graham may as well not even exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

The lobby of the office of Doctor Hannibal Lecter was an expression of opulence and good taste that the spare decor of the FBI building utterly lacked.  Agent Jack Crawford soaked it in as he waited to meet with the body of the mind that had designed the space.  He had come fifteen minutes before his appointed hour, and he had already spent five admiring the interior.  His mind then turned to imagining the kind of person that Doctor Lecter must be to have created the environment that Jack found himself in.

For a moment, he indulged in imagining Doctor Lecter as a flamboyant european man who spoke through a thick french accent and wore scarves everywhere.  Jack chuckled at the thought and promptly dismissed it - stereotyping would do him no good.  He knew that Doctor Lecter was european, that much was true, and that he insisted on maintaining appearances.  Beyond that, Jack knew that any speculation was only likely to cause him to misjudge the man.

Jack was brought out of his ponderings by an increase in volume of the voices in the office.  Two voices drew nearer to the door, and Jack stood in preparation of finally meeting the man.

“Please,” the door opened, “call me tomorrow to schedule our next appointment.  I should have a better idea as to my schedule then.”

“Of course.  Thank you, Doctor Lecter.”

The patient spared a brief nod at Jack, who responded with an equally brief smile before turning his attention to the other man.

“Agent Crawford, I presume?”  
“Please, call me Jack.”  They shook hands, and Hannibal indicated to Jack to enter the office.  Jack allowed himself a moment to take in as many details as he could about the man - he was roughly the same height as Jack, with brown hair and sharply-defined features.  He wore no cologne, but used a tasteful aftershave.  Jack acknowledged that he was, in point of fact, a strikingly attractive man.  “I’m here to talk to you about Will Graham.”

“I must remind you, Agent Crawford, that I cannot disclose details about my patients.”

“I’m not here for details, Doctor Lecter.  I just need to know if he is, in your opinion, stable enough to be considered for work in the field.  I need someone with his talents.”

Hannibal regarded him for a moment.  “I do not believe that putting Will Graham in that situation would be in his best interests, no.”

Jack frowned and rocked back on his heels.  “That’s what Alana Bloom said, too.  I guess I’m going to have to accept the opinions of the professionals.”  He laughed, and Hannibal indulged the joke with a smile.

“What are the specific talents that you are looking for?”

“I need somebody who does what Will Graham does - a crime scene analyst who can look at a crime and understand the motives behind it.”  Jack paused to think for a moment, and Hannibal regarded him impassively.  “Actually, since you are a psychological professional, do you know anybody in the field that you can recommend?”

Hannibal pursed his lips briefly, mulling the statement over.  “Actually, I believe that I do.”

——-

“I have a new crime scene psychologist.”

“Oh?”

“His name is Doctor Hannibal Lecter.  He’s a very handsome man.”

“Should I be worried?”  Bella laughed.

Jack laughed as well, passing the joint to Bella.  “I don’t think so.  We’re colleagues - it would be unseemly.”  
“Is that the only thing stopping you?”

“That and you,” Jack laughed.

Bella laughed, but it was clearly just to humor him.  “Actually, then you won’t have long to wait.”

Jack laughed harder for a moment, thinking that she was joking, before stopping abruptly.

“I have cancer, Jack.”


	2. A Rare Variety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Jack and Bella have a little dinner.

“Jack?  Is anything the matter?”  Hannibal Lecter placed a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, snapping out of his reverie as though closing a door on an unwelcome guest.  “I’m just a little distracted.”  He snorted, like a caged bull.  It wasn’t everyday that Jack Crawford was distracted in the middle of a crime scene, and even Hannibal could tell.

“I think that I’ve reached some conclusions, but I would like to share them with you privately.”  Hannibal pulled Jack away from the elaborate display of dead bodies.  “I thought that I would give us the dignity of space.  Jack, please know that if you need anything, you can talk to me.”

Jack smiled briefly at Hannibal, and instinct told him that his offer of friendship was unprofessional and that he should rebuff it.  However, he found that he was drawn to the man, and that a friendship outside of strictly work related topics wouldn’t be _too_ much of an impropriety.

“My wife has cancer.  She isn’t expected to make it beyond another couple of months.”  Charging straight to the point.

Hannibal was genuinely surprised.  “I’m sorry to hear that, Jack.”  He paused.  “Why don’t you and your wife come over for dinner tonight?  I would love to have the pleasure of your company.”  He reached over and tickled Jack’s shoulder.

Jack squirmed and giggled.

“Is seven thirty acceptable?”

“We’ll be there.”

——-

“I’ve heard so much about you, Doctor Lecter.”  Bella Crawford extended her hand, and Hannibal took it and brought it to his lips.

Kissing and releasing her hand, he replied, “nothing too salacious, I hope.”

They laughed and walked together into the dining room, making the requisite light conversation.

“Please excuse me,” Hannibal said as Jack and Bella took their seats.  “I’m going to finish preparing this evening’s meal.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Thank you, but I will take care of it.”  Hannibal left the room through a swinging servant door.

No sooner had he departed than Jack’s phone rang.  He answered it in a hushed tone, hoping that it was something that could be taken care of quickly.

He managed to hang up just as Hannibal brought out a covered sterling silver platter.

“I heard the phone ring,” Hannibal remarked.  “Is everything alright?”  
“Yes,” Jack replied.  “But we’ll have to leave after dinner - the office just called to tell me that two bodies were discovered about a half hour ago.”

Hannibal set down the platter in the center of the table.  “Oh?”

“Yeah.  Apparently, both of them are missing some meat.”

Hannibal pulled the cover off of the platter with a flourish.  “That’s too bad.  In the meantime, let’s enjoy this boeuf bourgignon.”

As they dug in, he and Bella both remarked on the high quality of the cooking.  “I’ve never tasted meat like this before!”

“I’m sure you haven’t - it’s of a very rare variety.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay no mind to the man behind the curtain.


	3. A Disappearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bye, Bella

Dinner at Hannibal’s had become a regular occurrence for Jack, but an event of increasing rarity for Bella.  Jack felt the distance encroaching between him and Bella the moment she had confessed her cancer to him.  He hated himself for it, but the prospect of facing down a terminal illness with somebody was not one that he relished in.  He had heard of many couples brought even closer by an illness, but all he could feel was cold, icy distance creeping in.

He knew, of course, that he would face whatever was to come by Bella’s side, no matter what.  But he wished that he could feel more committed to it than facing it as a chore that needed to be done.

“It sounds to me like you are having a perfectly human reaction to an unpleasant situation,” Hannibal told Jack during one dinner after Jack had told Hannibal his feelings regarding Bella.  “No human enjoys stress, and everyone reacts to it differently.”

Jack set down his third glass of wine, wincing at a bad swallow.  “But I can’t help feeling that I shouldn’t be reacting like this.”

“Jack, please,” Hannibal set his flatware down on either side of his plate.  “You cannot continue berating yourself for emotions which are perfectly valid.  Accept them, but only act on the ones you know you must.”

Jack was suddenly beset by an emotion that would result in an action he couldn’t fathom - he was struck by the urge to kiss Hannibal.  An inappropriate, sloppy, wine-tainted kiss over the table.

He shook the image away from his mind, both physically and mentally, but the imagined spice of Hannibal’s lips remained on the tip of his tongue, and not even the wine could wash it away.  Jack still took a heavy swig for good measure.

“You’re right, Hannibal.  What did you say this wine was?  It’s delicious.”  Jack decided that a quick subject change was the best course of action.  He hoped that Hannibal would forgive him the minor breach of etiquette.

That night, Jack dreamt of lying in Hannibal’s bed.  He dreamed of rolling over to straddle Hannibal, bodies clashing in primal contest.  He dreamed of the wine, pouring down from above, splashing off of their bodies, mixing with their sweat.  It slowly filled the room, and the last sound before the wine completely engulfed him was the exhale of orgasm, issued from the back of his throat upwards and sounding like the snarl of a bull.

——

The next day, Bella Crawford had a visitor.

“I’m Doctor Hannibal Lecter - I work very closely with your husband.”

“I,” Bella was forced to stop to heed a passing cough, “I’ve heard good things about you," she joked.

“Have you?”  Hannibal micro-smiled.

“He said that you were,” another coughing fit, “very handsome.”  Bella smiled broadly.  “He was right.”

“I am flattered,” Hannibal replied.  “How are you feeling?”

Bella’s smile faltered.  “I feel like it might be my time to go, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal paused to regard her for a moment.  “You’re considering ending your life?”

“Suicide seems like a valid solution to my problem.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Alive.  How does it make you feel?”

“I’ve always found the idea of death comforting.  The thought that my life could end at any moment frees me to fully appreciate the beauty,” Hannibal paused for breath, “and art and horror of everything this world has to offer.”

Bella didn’t know if, through the haze of medication, she had actually just heard Hannibal encourage her.  She decided to run with it.

“Will you…?”  She indicated the morphine drip in her arm.

Hannibal took a moment to ponder, then changed the settings on the drip and waited.  Bella’s eyes drifted to a close, a beneficent smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me
> 
> EDIT: It has come to my attention that I left out a line that really made the difference between bad fic and acceptable. Bella did not meet Hannibal twice, I was making a joke but forgot to put that I was joking.


	4. An Unappetizing Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She's gone, boy she's gone"  
> -Johnny Cash, 'Big River'

“Where’s Hannibal?” Jack asked Beverly Katz.

“I’m not sure,” she replied.  “But we could use his help here - this one’s a doozy.”

Jack slowly nodded his reply, fully taking in the crime scene for the first time since his arrival.  It was an elaborate display - a grotesque floral arrangement.  The man’s skin was painstakingly removed and folded into a huge number of flower shapes, most of which were roses.  His body was submerged in a vase of saline solution and held in a seated position with a series of metal braces.  His face was tilted upward so that, from above, his face was left intact in the center of the mound of skin roses.

“Jack,” Zeller called, “he’s hooked up to life support.”

“Are you saying he’s still alive?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

Jack could only stare for a moment in shock.  “Alright, let’s get this scene processed and get him out of there.”

It took eight hours and two teams of paramedics to process the crime scene and get the man out.  He ended up dying nonetheless - the shock to his system was too great.

Jack couldn’t fight the feeling that maybe it was for the best - he would have had a long recovery, possibly never fully regaining his life at all.  The case had nevertheless left him emotionally drained.  There was not a single fingerprint on the glass vase, nor any DNA evidence to be found on the scene at all.  In fact, there were things _missing._

“Jack, this guy is missing his, uh,” Pryce hesitated.  “He’s missing his ass.”

—-

“Butt roast with a red wine and shallot reduction, and tomato roses for garnish.”  Hannibal set a plate in front of Jack, and carved out a slice of the roast from the platter in the center of the table.  “I hope you like eating ass.”

Jack was taken aback.  The slice of roast in front of him, still a delicate pink in the center, glistened in the soft light of Hannibal’s dining room.  Across the shimmering surface of the flesh, he saw the face of the murder victim from earlier that day.  The man’s haunted expression seemed to be written into the grain of the meat, and it made Jack ill.

Hannibal, however, was looking at Jack expectantly from across the table.  Jack knew that he could not refuse Hannibal’s meal - it would be terribly rude - and so he resolved that, as ill as it made him, he would eat all of it.

He took up his fork and knife and, with all of the determination he could muster, drew the knife through the meat and speared the newly severed bit with his fork.  He lifted it to his mouth and placed the bite on his tongue.  Stifling a gag, he closed his lips around the fork and pulled it from his mouth, leaving the slice of meat to be laboriously masticated and swallowed.

Across the table, the barest ghost of a smile graced the edges of Hannibal’s mouth.

“How is it, Jack?”

Jack forced a smile, swallowed the food in his mouth, and responded, “it’s fantastic.”  No sooner had the words left his mouth then he felt his phone vibrate against his leg.  “Excuse me for one moment.”

“Update about the case?”

“I hope so.”  Jack stood from the table, carefully replacing the silverware and napkin on the table and sending a silent prayer into the aether that it was an urgent call that would demand his attention elsewhere and spare him from the food.

“Jack, it’s Beverly.  You need to come to the office right away.”  Jack was instantly overcome with relief.  “Bella is missing.”  Jack’s stomach hit the floor at the same time as his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am disturbed by my own mind


	5. Do What You Must, Beverly Katz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly has an adventure

For a full week, the spear of Bella’s absence had been lodged in Jack’s back.  He could feel it as a physical presence sometimes - a sharp pain that twisted when he turned too quickly for the spear to keep up.

A gentle knock sounded on Jack’s office door.

“What?!”

Hannibal stepped through the doorway carefully.  “Jack, it’s me.  I brought you lunch.”

“I don’t need any.”  Jack turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk and the digital files on his computer monitor.

“I happen to know that you haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.  You need to keep your strength up.”

Jack felt the compulsion to sigh, but knew well enough that Hannibal was right.  Hunger was making him irritable, and he knew that it was only a matter of time until he broke down entirely.

“Thank you, Hannibal.  What did you bring?”

“I brought a plank of smoked salmon and steamed brussels sprouts with a garlic aioli.”

A bird smacked into the window with a loud _whack_ , causing both Jack and Hannibal to start.  Beverly Katz, in the same moment, strode into Jack’s office to see Doctor Lecter and Jack staring at a red splat on the window.

“What happened?” she asked, and Jack jumped again.  Hannibal, however, turned around calmly and met her gaze.

“Ms. Katz, Jack is occupied right now.  Could you perhaps come back later?”

“Agent Crawford,” Beverly emphasized, “is on duty right now, and so am I.  This is about the case, and I need to talk with him.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later, Ms. Katz.”

Beverly refused to move.  She made eye contact with Jack, who was still out of his element from the bird and her sudden arrival.

“Give me ten minutes, Beverly,” Jack said, not without a look of apology.  Hannibal merely turned his back on her.

Beverly now found herself in the unique position of not having enough time to go and do anything else, but still having enough time on her hands to feel like time was being wasted.  She had no choice but to sit on the bench in the hallway staring right at Jack and Hannibal until they finished their meal.

Watching them eat, Beverly was unnerved by Hannibal.  She couldn’t place her finger on why, but he creeped her out.  She did her best to write it off as just being put off after Hannibal’s practically rude behavior, but the feeling lingered.  She decided that she would take time later to investigate Hannibal - something was amiss, and she was determined to find out what.

“Alright, Beverly,” Jack said, opening the door after he had finished eating.  “Come on in.”

She stood and walked into Jack’s office, where Hannibal was still seated and making no signs of leaving.  She stared at his back pointedly, hoping Jack would take the hint.

“What have you found?” he asked, missing it entirely.

Beverly fought the urge to sigh.  “I finished processing all of the evidence from Bella’s hospital bed, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.  DNA from half a dozen hospital techs and doctors, your skin, and even a few hairs from Doctor Lecter.  But nothing from anybody who doesn’t have an airtight alibi.”

“So we have nothing, then?”

“Looks that way.”

“Do your job, Katz!”  Jack snapped, and instantly regretted it.  “I’m sorry, Beverly.  I didn’t mean,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand, “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.  Just,” he made eye contact with Beverly, who noted the absence of life in his eyes, “do what you have to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's coming


	6. Brochette and a Death

“Are you sure?”

“Jack,” Hannibal put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, “I insist.  It’s not healthy for you to be here alone.  My rooms are always open for a friend in need.”

Part of Jack took offense to Hannibal calling him a “friend,” and it took him a moment to realize why; he felt like more than a friend.  Hannibal had become his closest confidant, and a friend closer than anyone before save for Bella.

_Maybe even closer than Bella,_ he thought, and immediately chastised himself for it.  Jack knew that Hannibal could never occupy Bella’s space in his heart, but he acknowledged that, whether he liked it or not, Hannibal was carving out a new space alongside hers.

“Now,” Hannibal stepped completely into Jack’s bedroom, “what do you have left to pack?”

“Just a couple of changes of underwear.”

“Which drawer…?”  Hannibal made a move toward Jack’s wardrobe, pausing to take the cue from Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“Top one.”

Hannibal pulled it open to reveal an array of nearly identical, neatly folded, Wal-Mart five-to-a-pack boxers.  He paused and pursed his lips, pawing hesitantly at the homogenous pile of undergarments.  One was nudged just enough to reveal a slip of higher quality fabric, deeply buried.  Hannibal reached his thumb and middle finger in, pulling the mystery material out for closer inspection.

It was a bright red jockstrap.  Hannibal instantly decided to take it, giving it a quick one-handed fold and pushing it into his breast pocket.  It stuck out just enough for Hannibal to be able to plausibly say it was his pocket handkerchief.

“I’m not sure which of these you would like to bring.”

“Just grab a few,” Jack said over his shoulder.

Hannibal selected five from the top layer and walked them over to Jack, who instantly homed in on Hannibal’s new pocket handkerchief.

Jack’s eyes narrowed, and Hannibal could see the doubt circling in his mindscape.  But then Hannibal saw Jack very purposely push it away, as he knew he would.

“Will these do?”

“Yes, thank you.”  Jack put them into his suitcase, then closed the lid and zipped it shut.

——-

Hannibal Lecter’s front door opened, as Beverly Katz was leaving out the back.  She heard the front door open as she was reaching for the back door handle.  She felt a sudden surge of anxiety, and opened the door a touch too quickly.

Across the house, Hannibal heard his back door click.

“I think I’ll go start dinner,” he said to Jack.  “You can use any of the rooms on the second floor.”  He indicated the stairwell, then excused himself and strode through the kitchen.  By the time he got to the back window, he was at a run.  He all but slammed into the wall at the window frame, just in time to make eye contact with a terrified Beverly Katz as she ducked out of sight.

“Jack,” Hannibal all but shouted as he walked back toward the front door.  “I have to go pick up the meat for tonight’s dinner.”

“Alright,” Jack replied, confused.  “Is everything alright?  Is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I will be right back.  Please get settled in the meantime.”

And Hannibal left, in more of a hurry than he had been in in a long time.

Already nearly at the FBI Headquarters, Beverly pulled out her cell phone and dialed Jack’s office number.  It rang five times before the answering machine picked up.  She cursed loudly and tried to find Jack’s cell number.

She got to it as she pulled haphazardly into a parking space and stumbled out of her car and toward the front door.  She ran inside, heedless of the looks she was getting from passersby.

“Where is Jack?” she demanded of the man at the front desk.

“Let me check,” he turned to the computer monitor in front of him, but not before giving Beverly an uncertain glance.

“No time!”  She ran off in the direction of his office, leaving the front desk clerk in her wake.

Jack’s office was empty, leaving Beverly hanging in a mental limbo for a moment as she desperately tried to think through her panic.  If Jack wasn’t at the office, then he would only be reachable via cell.  So she pulled her own cell phone out and dialed Jack’s number.

Just as it started ringing, the elevator at the end of the hall dinged, announcing Hannibal’s arrival.  He saw Beverly before she saw him, and he started walking toward the stairwell where she was clearly visible in the doorway.

Beverly felt her heart jump into her throat, and she turned and dashed down the steps, instinct alone bringing her to the morgue.  But no sooner than the door shut behind her, the building’s fire alarm blared.

The few people in the morgue shuffled past Beverly and into the stairwell behind her.

“Let’s go, Bev,” someone jabbed as they walked past.

Stunned, she turned around and joined the small group heading back up the stairs.  She felt as though she were moving through the haze of a dream - every step felt less like a conscious choice and more like a river current pulling her along.

Lagging behind the rest of the people from the morgue, she went to turn the corner to walk out of the door.  Her progress was quickly halted by a sharp pull on her ponytail from behind.  She fell backwards, and into the heavy crinkle of a thick plastic body bag.

Before she could call for help, a strong pair of hands grasped her by the shoulders and slammed her head into the wall.

 

Jack Crawford arrived at the FBI building thirty nine minutes later, scrambling from his car to the line of people outside.

“Where’s Beverly?!”

His cell phone had rung for almost a full minute before he answered, but when he did, all he heard was the klaxon and the dull roar of nearby fire.

“We don’t know!  The building lost power right after the alarm went off, so we couldn’t use the cameras to find her,” the desk clerk answered.

Right at that moment, the front doors of the building opened.  For a brief moment, the crowd was silenced.  Then, a flaming gurney burst through the open doorway.  On the gurney was a human figure, completely consumed by fire.  Whoever it was was screaming inchoately, and Jack recognized the voice as soon as he heard it.

“Beverly!  That’s Beverly!”

“Somebody grab a fire extinguisher!”  Hannibal, approaching from the rear, shouted in the general direction of the crowd.  “I came as soon as I heard there was a fire,” he said as an aside to Jack.

——-

“Somebody nearly _died,_ ” Jack shouted, “in _our building_ , and _nobody knows what happened!_ ”  He stormed, lashing against the walls of Hannibal’s sitting room like a caged bull.  The second spear lodged in his hide twisted painfully against the first, and he could feel anger just below the surface of whatever he was feeling at all times.  At the moment, it was seething over the edges of his mind like a pot boiling over.

“Your anger is justified.  After the disappearance of your wife, today’s happenings cannot weigh lightly on your conscience,” Hannibal prodded.  “You feel as though these things are your fault.  You must remember that they are not.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Jack snapped at Hannibal.  “I am Beverly’s supervisor!  Her life is in my hands, day in and day out, and I let her down!”

“If somebody really wanted her dead, they would have found a way, no matter how well-protected she would have been.”

“I could have,” Jack was losing steam, “ _should_ have done better.  Made a better effort.”

Hannibal closed the final few paces between him and Jack, placing a hand on his back.  “You’ve done everything you could do, Jack, and there’s nothing more to be done save for moving forward.  We’ll find Bella, and find Beverly’s would-be killer.”  Hannibal cupped Jack’s chin in his other hand and licked the side of his face.

“You’re right,” Jack responded after a time, gazing into the limpid pools of Hannibal’s eyes.

Hannibal leaned in and pressed his lips to Jack’s, who was too stunned to reciprocate.  All of his anger, and then grief, sublimated upon contact with the other man.  For a moment, he began to reciprocate, then pulled himself away.

“Not that I don’t find you attractive,” Jack said, out of breath and barely above a whisper, “but I have a wife.  She’s out there, somewhere, and I’m still planning on finding her.”

“I understand,” Hannibal responded huskily, affecting an air of concealed chagrin.  He made a brief show of wiping a hand down his face.  “On another note,” he glanced down at his watch, “dinner should be ready.”

Hannibal left the room looking like he had his tail between his legs, leaving Jack alone to choose whether or not he would follow.  He took a moment before joining Hannibal in the dining room.

“What are we having?” he asked in a show of amicability.

“Brochette de Lapin aux Pruneaux,” Hannibal replied, setting down a tray of kabobs.  “Loins, legs, and kidney of rabbit with onion and prunes, fried with rosemary.  The butcher tells me that this rabbit was especially troublesome.”

Five seconds at the table passed before the weight of things unsaid became a palpable force, pushing against both Jack and Hannibal uncomfortably.  Jack couldn’t stop thinking about Hannibal’s lips against his, and the taste of cloves and blood.

He downed his glass of wine in three gulps, then refilled it and drained half in two further swallows.

Hannibal, for his part, took a single sip in lieu of remarking on Jack’s desperate bid to stifle his feelings.

Jack tore into his brochette with a hunger that was equal parts gastronomical and sexual.  He stolidly avoided Hannibal’s gaze throughout dinner, choosing instead to try to focus on the food.  But every time his teeth sunk into a piece of meat, the rush of juices into his mouth mirrored the imagery of his fantasies.  Each chunk of rabbit loin down his throat was a fragment of his desire, and he dutifully collected each one he had been given until he was fit to burst.

When he had finished, he had no choice but to look across the table at Hannibal.  As soon as he did, he was on fire.  The world around him was a cold vacuum, save for himself and Hannibal, who were each beacons of flame in a whirlwind.  Jack could feel his heat like it was an ocean current, pushing at him and searing his flesh.  He felt all of the blood in his body as though it were a boiling stream of meat juices oozing from what he had just ingested.  He was boiling over, and he had to get out of the fire.

“Excuse me,” Jack mumbled, standing from the table, “I’m very tired.  I think I’m going to bed.”  He could feel Hannibal’s eyes on the boner tenting his pants as he left the dining room.

Hannibal wolf whistled as the door shut behind Jack.

Halfway up the stairs, Jack heard Hannibal clear his throat at the bottom of the stairs.

“Jack,” he tentatively offered.  “I think we should talk.”

“About what?” Jack demanded.  “There’s nothing to talk about!”  He was suddenly very aware of the spears in his back again.  “My wife is missing, and I am thinking of doing things with you that are inexcusable!  I still haven’t found anything out about where my wife is, and one of my agents almost died today!  There’s _nothing else to say!_ ”

He turned and stormed up the stairs, leaving Hannibal thinking about how much he hated to see Jack leave but loved to watch Jack go.

Hannibal turned and walked back into the kitchen as Jack’s bedroom door shut, waiting for a brief moment before opening the panel by his kitchen island.  Descending the handful of steps into the basement, he flicked on the lightswitch to reveal Bella Crawford laying in a hospital bed at the end of the basement.

“Good evening, Bella.”

As expected, she did not stir.

He walked around the chains and plastic hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the basement to the alcove in the back, taking note of Bella’s vitals as he approached.  He dialed down Bella’s sedation, then patiently waited until her eyelids fluttered open.

She groaned, and Hannibal responded by blotting at her forehead with a damp towel.

“How are you feeling?”

“Where…?”

“You are in my home, Bella.”

Bella grimaced in a mixture of confusion and discomfort.  “Why?”

“I’ve decided to place you under my care.”

Hannibal’s answer only vexed her further.  “Where’s Jack?”

“He’s upstairs as we speak.”

“Can I see him?”

“No, no no no,” Hannibal dabbed at Bella’s forehead again.

Bella’s vision swam, and she was having a difficult time piecing her situation together in her mind.  Why was she here and not the hospital?  Had the hospital actually agreed to release her into Hannibal’s care?  Was she in that dire of a situation?

She slowly thought her way through it - if she had been released from the hospital, then the hospital must already consider her to be dead.  And if she were in Hannibal’s home, and Jack were there, then that must mean that she had been released her to die.

Oddly, she found herself almost relieved.  She didn’t want to die in the hospital, and she certainly didn’t want to die in her own home.  Hannibal’s home, she thought, was as good a place as any to pass on.  And Jack was near enough that he could come to her when he was ready, and when she was ready for him.  She found it to be an all-around pleasing scenario.

“I’m going to fuck Jack,” Hannibal said, not even looking at her.  “Tonight.  And he’s going to wear this,” he pulled out the jockstrap from his breast pocket.  His eyes remained on the meters and readouts next to Bella’s bed.  “Don’t you think it’s time he let you go?”

At first, she was too shocked to respond.  All she could do was stare, slack-jawed.  Then, a surge of anger welled up within her - this man whom she had believed to be her friend had suddenly become something far more sinister than she had ever thought possible.

She gathered her strength, then threw her hand at Hannibal’s face.

She was stopped short a few inches from her beginning by a handcuff that was attached to the railing on the bed.

“I thought it a wise precaution.”  Hannibal tucked the jockstrap back into his breastpocket.  “In case you decided to try to escape.”

He walked out of the alcove and back up the stairs, leaving Bella alone in the darkness of the basement.


	7. Hit and Quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal hits it and quits it

“Jack?”  Hannibal knocked gently on Jack’s bedroom door.  “May I come in?”

A moment passed, and just when Hannibal thought that Jack wasn’t going to let him in, the door opened.

Jack was shirtless, and it looked like he had been doing heavy calisthenics - sweat had gathered on his large frame, making every swell of muscle glisten.  He was panting slightly, and the ebb and flow of his breath put his chest into beautiful motion, causing the pools of light to caress his features lovingly, as Hannibal found himself wont to do himself.

They stared at each other for a moment, each one taking in the sight of the other.  Jack could feel his heartbeat all over, and the heat in his body was suddenly on his skin.  He was on fire again, and Hannibal was the match, gasoline, and oxygen.

Jack practically dove for Hannibal, catching the taller man off-guard and crushing their lips together.  He pushed his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth without preamble, seeking to taste as much of the other man’s mouth as he could.

Hannibal reciprocated after a confused moment, shedding his suit jacket before grabbing the back of Jack’s head with both hands.  He deepened the kiss immediately, and found that he was desperate for Jack’s touch.

Jack suddenly spun the two around, putting the bed directly behind Hannibal.  He shoved him, sending Hannibal sprawling across the sheets.  Jack then jumped on top of Hannibal, straddling his hips.

But Hannibal grabbed one of Jack’s arms and, pulling it to one of his shoulders while twisting his body, he got a leg out and onto Jack’s neck and leveraged both of their weights to throw Jack to the bed.  He climbed atop Jack, quickly unbuttoning his cuffs.

“Our safe word is ‘Bella,’” he said before cocking a punch and throwing it into Jack’s face.

Jack yelped, and another blow landed to his face before he gathered his senses and threw a jab into Hannibal’s side.  He could feel one of his eyes swelling up, along with the opposite cheek.  Strangely, he was harder than he had ever been before.  He could feel his erection straining against his pants and Hannibal’s taint, which were both putting far more pressure on him than he would have cared for.

Hannibal doubled over to his left from the blow to his side, and Jack took the opportunity to grab the left side of Hannibal’s head with his left arm and shoved him off.

Hannibal bounced against the bed, scrambling to stand up while Jack did the same.  They both divested themselves of their pants and anything that could seriously injure either of them, leaving them both in only their undergarments.  Hannibal held up a hand and walked to his abandoned suit jacket, stooping to pull out the jock strap.

“Put this on,” he said, tossing it to Jack.

Jack was shocked until Hannibal lunged for him, hitting him squarely in the chest hard enough to knock him back into the wall between the windows.

“Put it on, Jack, or I will put it on you myself.”

“Where did you-?”  Hannibal interrupted him with a punch to the gut, leaving Jack gasping for air and stumbling away.  Hannibal then kicked him squarely in the ass, sending Jack sprawling over the bed as Hannibal had earlier.

Jack took a moment to collect himself, waiting for Hannibal to approach.  He did, and Jack threw a wild backhand while shoving himself off the bed, connecting with the side of Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal stumbled backwards, and Jack took the opportunity to lunge.  He grabbed Hannibal by the midsection and pulled, heaving him up off the ground.  He suplexed him onto the bed, squeezing as tightly as he dared.

Hannibal flailed his legs, sending a kick into Jack’s pubic bone, narrowly missing his twig and berries.  It loosened Jack’s grip enough for Hannibal to slip out, and he jumped atop Jack to straddle his back.

Jack felt Hannibal’s hands caress his rear gently before delivering a sound _thwack_.  In the momentary surprise, Hannibal pulled Jack’s boxers down around his knees and yanked, tearing the elastic against the tree trunks of Jack’s legs.

Jack stood up and turned, throwing himself down against the bed, pinning Hannibal beneath him.  He delivered a strong backhanded smack to Hannibal’s face, and Hannibal’s vision distorted.  His erection clearly tented his briefs, indicating to Jack just how much he and Hannibal had in common.

Hannibal balled up a swath of the sheets in his hand, then yanked the handful over Jack’s face.  It wrapped around his head and dug into his neck, and Hannibal pulled.  He used Jack’s momentary panic to flip them both over, then he pulled harder, like reigns on a stampeding animal.

Jack flailed ineffectually, giving Hannibal the opportunity to lean back and put both of Jack’s legs through the holes in the jockstrap.  He pulls, and traps Jack’s erection behind the fabric before freeing his face from the sheet and rolling off.

Jack jumped on the opportunity, throwing himself at Hannibal and again pinning him against the bed.  He leveraged his full  body weight against Hannibal, grinding their hips together.  He grunted and snorted, the sweat of his body clinging to Hannibal’s chest hair.

Hannibal pushed his hips back against Jack’s violently, crushing their testicles together painfully.  Jack yelped, and almost came.  He responded by biting Hannibal’s shoulder.  The bite drew blood, and Jack slurped it up messily.  The metallic tang of Hannibal’s essence filled his mouth like the juices from dinner, and Jack found his hunger unbearable.

“Please,” Jack whispered, grinding against Hannibal again.

The reply came in the form of Hannibal grabbing Jack’s head in his hands and pulling him into another kiss.  Their blood mixed in their mouths, each imparting their essence into the other.  Their sweat commingled, sending up a waft of musk with every breath, every movement.

Hannibal broke the kiss and made a move toward the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling a bottle of lube and a condom.

“Fuck me, Jack.”

Jack sat up and pulled the fabric of the jockstrap aside, revealing his engorged manhood.  It sprung free, slinging a liquid ribbon of pre-ejaculate across Hannibal’s chest.  He dismounted from Hannibal briefly, allowing the other man to remove his briefs.

Jack took up the intended position straddling Hannibal’s cock, sliding the condom on and slathering the other man with lube.  Without any regard for Jack’s preparedness, he slammed himself in.

Luckily, Jack was ready, and received Hannibal in his entirety.  Both of them moaned, and the smell of musk sharpened in the air.

Jack gripped the sheets as Hannibal drew himself out, then slammed back in, starting up an aggressive pace.  He rammed himself against the other man savagely, both of their bodies rebounding from each blow.  Blood dripped from Hannibal’s swollen lips onto Jack’s chest.

Jack could feel himself nearing his climax, grunting and snorting like a bull.  He charged against Hannibal, feeling his base instincts take over as his mind left them behind.  He thought of nothing - could think of nothing - and was no longer in conscious control.  His body was operating by ancient rules, passed down since time immemorial.

Neither of them spoke another word as they crashed toward their climaxes, thrashing against each other’s bloody, bruised, and sweaty bodies.  Jack cried out as he reached orgasm, dick clenching to shoot strings of ejaculate over his midsection.

Hannibal followed closely behind, burying his final spear into Jack’s body.  They both cried out, rolling over to lie side by side as their orgasms faded.

“Pain,” Hannibal said, still panting, “and sublime pleasure, both tell us who we really are.”  He stopped to breathe.  “Who are you, Jack?  And what do you see in me?”

Jack, also panting, found himself laughing.  “I see in you a man who doesn’t know when to shut the hell up.”  He rolled over, facing away from Hannibal.  Almost instantly, he started to slide away into sleep.

Hannibal waited until Jack’s breathing evened out, then stood from the bed.  He left all of clothes on the floor where they lay, and crept over to Jack.  He looked at the man’s sleeping form, looking like a mountain at rest.

_Time to fell the bull._

——-

Bella was never awake to feel her death.  Hannibal dialed up her morphine until she slipped quietly away into oblivion.

He dragged her body up the stairs and out to his car, loading her into the trunk for the trip to his office.  Once there, he unloaded her discretely, taking her up into the main room.

His first goal was to pose her body.  He repurposed an old anatomical skeleton stand and sunk a drill bit into the top of her skull.  He suspended a hook there, and attached her to the stand.

With that done, he carefully cut away her clothing, leaving her bare to the world.  He then drew a scalpel down her sternum, exposing the bone, which he then leveraged open.  Her heart and lungs were suspended there, but he freed them both, sewing the heart into her hands, which then were held hanging limply in front of her.

She was offering her heart up, to one man in particular.

——-

“Jack, please come to my office.  I would like to speak with you.”

The call came at 6am on the dot, and Jack groggily showered, dressed himself, and left.  Once he arrived, he found himself back in Hannibal’s sitting room.  Nothing had been changed from the first time Jack had been in it, and he was strangely comforted by it.  It was stability - the one thing that remained unchanged in his life.

He knocked on the door, which creaked open slowly.

“Welcome, Jack.”  Hannibal, in his plastic suit, stood next to Bella, who was torn apart and posed as though she were offering her heart to him.  “Please come in.”

Jack found himself compelled to walk forward, still too dumbfounded to process what he was seeing.

“I have freed her from her pain.”

That brought Jack back to reality.  “You were the one who kidnapped her?!  _You_ did this?!”

“I did.”  Hannibal looked pleased with himself, and that was what drove Jack over the edge.

He lunged at Hannibal, who sidestepped him easily.

“Are you not proud?  This is what she wanted.”

“She could have fought it!”

The disappointment in Hannibal’s eyes knifed Jack in the chest, but the pain only served to incense him further.  He took one final dive toward Hannibal, who grasped his shoulders as though embracing him.  Jack thought that was the case until he felt the cold steel of a knife rip through his torso.

His bowels spilled to the floor, and Hannibal looked the same as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's over and im not even sorry
> 
> except I'm going to make a series off of this in which Beverly chases down Hannibal so look forward to it (if you want)

**Author's Note:**

> It begins.


End file.
